Movies, Training, AND WOMEN!!!!!!!

Winter break is an amazing time of year. All year at school, unimportant things (aka your future) cloud more essential aspects of life. Like movies, training, and older women. Luckily, in Florida I have had the time to watch an abundance of moving pictures, get in an explosion of miles, and accumulate a harem of women (the experienced variety). First, the movies:

Inglorious Basterds-
If Quentin Tarantino teaches us anything, it's that doing a shitload of cocaine and not being able to spell should never be an obstacle to success. Intellectual premise?...Yawn. Intricately fascinating cinematography?....What are you, gay? Murdering Nazis? Fuck yes. Grade: A.

Avatar-
In the future, we will have the technology to synchronize the human genome with an alien nervous system to operate massive Avatars. But curing paralysis?!?!?! WE ARE NOT MIRACLE WORKERS! Also, the movie promotes tree-hugging and is anti-war. It's like James Cameron's genome is synchronized with.....my heart. Grade: A-.

500 Days of Summer-
You call this an accurate portrayal of a relationship? Not once did Summer beat him in arm wrestling before seducing him with her masculine shoulders and deep, throaty voice. Ummm.....it's normal for my romantic life to be like The Crying Game, right? Grade: B.

Gran Torino-
Clint Eastwood knows ethnic slurs, and he is not afraid to use them. Though after staying in a retirement community for a week, I severely doubt that he could save the neighborhood. Unless he does it before 3 PM when Matlock comes on. Also, the kid in the movie is possibly the worst actor of all time. He makes Jimmy Fallon on SNL look like a master thespian. Grade: B-.

Sherlock Holmes-
It's like the television show House (House=Holmes, Wilson=Watson), but with less interesting dialogue and more homoerotic boxing. Granted, there is no such thing as a Robert Downey Jr. overdose. Though he should have channeled his Tropic Thunder character and told the writers that you never go full-retard. Grade: C+

It's a Wonderful Life-
Obviously, an incredible movie on every level. Grade: A+.

Training:
The warm weather has led to some outstanding days. On Tuesday, a quick 40 minutes on the trainer was followed with a 2 mile race-pace tempo in 9:56. It was liberating to simply extend the stride without worrying about NYC cars and air pollution. Yesterday, I rode for a couple hours with my dad (who is VERY strong right now....watch out old dudes!) and followed that up with a 5 mile jog. I am starting to feel a little tired, but nothing that some Florida Sun can't cure.*

*Florida Sun is a euphemism for snorting a couple of my Grandpa's pills. It's the Russian roullette of illicit drug use. I'm not sure if my blood sugar that should go up, or an erection.


Women:
I am actually just trying to flatter myself with this one. I am the only person in the park under 60. Other than my brother of course.


DARN, HE'S SO HANDSOME! I guess I have to settle for second place in the park. Oh.....there's my dad, too. I would say always the bridesmaid, never the bride, but with those guys I'm more like the 5 year-old ring bearer.

A Christmas Carol

Spending time with extended family is a mixed blessing. Like Sarah Palin in hot pants. I mean she is undeniably hot, but you have to listen to her talk. And confront your latent sexism/jealousy towards women in power. The Alaska governess has another thing in common with grandparents: random, nonsensical statements that are at best frustrating, and at worst infuriating. This is the 21st century Grandpa, it is not okay to say a football player looks like a gorilla. Even if said football player is a white offensive linemen, and would make King Kong sexually aroused.

So we are staying at their retirement community in Florida. It is the type of place where Elvis is treated as a radical form of new-fangled music. AND WHAT IS WITH ALL THAT PELVIC THRUSTING!?! Thus it is with great pride and a sense of majestic responsibility that I went for my long run yesterday. A quick change into my hip-hugging tri shorts and flourescent green LunaRacer shoes and I was out the door. To say that I was on the receiving end of double takes is an understatement akin to saying Brett Favre is indecisive, or Glenn Beck is a deranged lunatic. I am not implying that I am sexy, but the most sought-after fashion accessory in the park are the hot new hearing aids. The old ladies would want me as a Bingo partner, if you know what I mean. (I mean exactly that.....Bingo is very erotic)

After an hour and a half of marathon-paced running, I did 3x800 meters at an all out pace, all while being very aware of passing cadillacs. It was 2 PM, and you don't want to get in the way of an American-made tank that close to the early-bird special. Seriously though, it was a great run and it has been an even better trip. I love my grandparents, and everyone in the retirement community is incredibly pleasant. Though I do kind of feel like the new pool boy in a geriatric version of Desperate Housewives. Due to residual memories of the Great Depression, the budget is extremely low and I am the best they could get. (I work for complimentary mints taken from restaurants)

Bone Dreamcrusher: The Reckoning

Yesterday, the dream crushing began in full force. Usually, I train alone, or do easy runs with friends. This would be like, instead of waiting for some nubile young teenager to fall asleep, Freddy Krueger tried to keep himself up as long as possible. Dream crushing works best when practiced with others. It is similar to stupidity at the Republican National Convention. Alone, any one of those wackos seems fucking insane, but put them in a room together and they get treated seriously. With that confusing sentiment, I joined a race simulation training ride in Florida.

After an easy spin out, the pain train began to roll. Some riders had Zipp 808's and compression SOX----the distinctive mating foliage of a triathlete. And like strutting peacocks, they made easy targets. Within 10 minutes they were dropped like bad habits, most likely because they wanted to keep their heart rates low for the run. Or perhaps their dreams are simply more crushable. Of the original 25, the field dwindled to 15 by the first turn 3 miles in. Me and 3 others took the majority of the pace setting, with an average pace of 29.5 mph for the first 15 miles. This was one of those rides where each surge was met with counter attacks, and each slowing was met with an attempted breakaway. After a long pull in the 54x11 (Poundtown brought to life), a mountain began to loom in the distance. Because this ride is on the Florida coast, this incline that seemingly dwarfed Everest was actually an interstate overpass.

At this point, the group had been whittled down to 8, and the only sounds were clicking gears and labored breathing. Knowing the overpass was the day's sprint point, I took a breather through the group, letting some of the slackers move to the front as the pace dropped down to 25 mph. My sprint-foo is weak, so I made the ultimate time trialist move---attacked a kilometer away from Alpe d'Huez in the distance. Leaping up the road on the outside of the group, the acceleration took the racers by surprise, and the chase took several seconds to organize. Pushing 32, I put my head down and pounded, not daring to look back and see the stampede in my rear. Getting to the base of the climb, I darted out of the saddle, swinging the bike side to side under my pedal-stroke like a pendulum on fast-forward. At the top of the hill, I glanced back to see a group chasing fifteen seconds back. The competitor in me wanted to keep going to the next turn; the pain receptors in my quads and lungs wanted me to grab my cell phone and wait for the paramedics. The competitor won.

Two miles later, we regrouped. Only four remained, one multisport athlete (me) surrounded by three pro/1/2 racers. As we spun to the next town, they inquired to my background and history, genuinely interested in this new racer. Those gladiators who miles earlier needed to be vanquished to ensure my survival turned out to be great guys when the pace dropped enough to utter words outside of the four-letter variety. After 50 miles, we parted ways. The day, aside from being an outstanding effort, brought confidence in my indoor training, and rekindled a love for cycling that can sometimes be lacking in the cab-infested wilderness of New York City.

A quick easy 5k to loosen up, and ice-tub/protein shake combo finished the day. Bone Dreamcrusher is like a vampire. He comes out at night and wreaks havoc on the townspeople, only to disappear at sunrise. Oh, and he should be in the next Twilight movie. But as the rebel, non-abstinent vampire. Bone Dreamcrusher wants none of your silly euphemisms.

Hasselhoff Dreams

The band is back together! After one day on the road, the Roche clan arrived in Florida to visit the grandparents. Yesterday morning, I fell 3 times slipping on black ice in Maryland. I was running with the grace of a floozy in high heels walking across cobblestones. Today, I ran shirtless in spandex and no shoes on the beach. Old ladies of Melbourne.....you're welcome. And by that I mean for the fact that I have now put my shirt back on. The glare off my polar bear color skin probably blinded those of you brave enough to take a peek. After 4 months in NYC, my bare chest is like an eclipse. Or possibly the grail in Indiana Jones. You will either go blind or melt.

Anyway, it is awesome to be spending time with family. My parents are obviously amazing, and my brother is a terrific guy. I would worry about him reading this and seeing I said he is terrific, but we all know he is too stupid to read. On top of that, the grandparents are happy and healthy! Sadly, they do not understand an athlete that eats gluten-free. Though they continually say I'm "glutton-free", which I guess is an inadvertent compliment!

Ran for an hour on the beach today, and it was really an enjoyable experience. Running shoeless reinforces proper biomechanics, and doing it in the lapping waves allows me to emulate the pinnacle of artistic expression---BAYWATCH! It should be noted that most people here seem to be on the wrong side of four score and seven years. Daydream time:

"Oh, ladies, I'm just going to rescue a drowning puppy. Don't mind me."

(Slow-motion running)

"Oh, ladies, I'm back. What's that? I'm sorry, I can't understand you. I am distracted by the beautiful voice of an angel."

(applies baby oil to self)

"I said you're an ANGEL! That's you. THAT"S YOU! No, I didn't say bird flu. Oh, your hearing aid isn't in."

(massages own chest hair)

"So you can't hear me huh? That's okay, at least you can experience this sexy body. Your dog seems to love me. I'm good with dogs."

(does a booty dance of seduction)

Why are you looking at the sky? Crap, you're blind and deaf, aren't you? Well, your seeing eye dog seems to have taken a liking to me.

(dog licks own balls)
(boy and dog run off in slow motion)
(end scene)

Another One Bites the Dust

So the semester is OVER. WOOOOOO! I am writing this cozied next to the woodstove in my childhood home, seeing childhood sights (which right now mainly revolves around my mom hovering around me like an overeager puppy), all while wrapped in a Ninja Turtle blanket. Notably, the blanket is from childhood, but is like a fine wine. I am not saying that it gets better with age, but that THE LADIES CANNOT RESIST IT! At least I am not using the Care Bears blanket, because that would be childish.

With school over for a bit, it is time for a period of solemn reflection.....SIKE! It's time to party! Eggnog mixed with Whey Protein for everyone! Shots of that shit will be my gift to myself this holiday season. QUADS OF STEEL! CALF MUSCLES OF IRON! Sadly, biceps of flint, or possibly soapstone. You have to work with what yo momma gave ya.

Over break there are two main goals:

1. Get some quality training. The family will be heading to Florida for New Year's, so I would like to get some extra bike miles along with the 70 miles/week running. Also, being in Florida allows me to wear my favorite warm weather workout outfit---tri shorts with no top. While running along a Florida highway in that outfit, pickup trucks do not take kindly to my fabulous tan/awesome chest hair (or possibly they think I am a GAY). Who knows, perhaps Tiger Woods (from Orlando!) will see me on the road and take a liking. That is the pinnacle of horror though, because he is richer than Oprah so no one can resist him, regardless of gender. The difference between Tiger and Santa.....Tiger doesn't stop at 3 ho's. (Sorry)

2. Apply for additional law school scholarships. At this point, I have acceptances at NYU, Duke, UCLA, Vanderbilt, and Texas. All are amazing schools, and I am thrilled that they are interested. I really do want to change the world through science, and any one of those places will give me the tools to make a difference in our shared future. A few more law schools are on the table, and it is exciting to look towards the future. I mean, flying cars are the shit! Hopefully the zombie apocalypse is put off long enough to graduate. Or perhaps I can invent a public advocate NGO for zombies. We'd be like PETA, except with more rationality.

3. Learn math. Really, I can never get these damn lists right.

Training:
Friday: 15 miles long run
Saturday: 1 hour ride with 8 mile run (plus 6 hill sprints for fun)
Sunday: 8 mile snow run (WITH SLEDDING!)
Monday: 30 minutes trainer (2 final exams)
Tuesday: 45 minutes trainer with 2x5 minutes hard and 6 miles running

Apocalypse sNOW

Columbia University is a ghost town during finals, taken over by a fearless bandit named Stress. It is a hopeless environment. Tumbleweeds blow across campus (and Tumbleweeds are sadly not euphemisms for sorority girls). John Wayne would take one look in the library and declare Stress the new sheriff in this town. As bags grow around the sad eyes of settlers abandoned by Mr. Wayne, the hunger for brains grows. Students start preying on their own. Cats and dogs begin living together, MASS HYSTERIA! Yes, the only movie metaphor apt to describe this is a Ghostbusters Zombie Western.*

*call dibs on royalties from that awesome idea

But last night was different. Earlier in the day, rumors began circulating about a snowball fight planned for midnight. Infected by New York City skepticism, I blew the idea off (and no, not in the way of the aforementioned sorority sisters). Around midnight though, I found myself wandering down Amsterdam Avenue with Krish to celebrate a friend's graduation, braving the blowing snow. He saw a stranded driver, and we pushed him out of the curbside snowbank. Just then, apparitions with a vague resemblance to our friends emerged from the whiteout. "Hey guys! Snowball fight!" Damion yelled. With reluctance, Krish and I agreed to take a short trip to the center of campus to watch the event (which, based on my Columbia experience, would be completely empty/somewhat depressing).

What ensued can hardly be conveyed. As falsely sentimental as this sounds, the next two hours can only be described in emotions:

1. Surprise---We were greeted by a rapidly swelling crowd, from about 100 at midnight to nearly 500 thirty minutes later. Laughter was interspersed with jubilant yells from charging armies. While wading into the rapidly rising crowd, my ears were pierced with a shrill warning, "THIS....ISSSSSS.......SPARTA!" Four complete strangers pelted my Columbia beanie with snowballs, and the carnage began.

2. Aggressiveness----As the night continued, we found our calling. The long distance head-shot was incredibly satisfying. Notably, I was recruited for baseball to Division 1 schools. Girl in the red sweater not wearing a hat, you will be missed.

3. Joy-----With groups using door frames to sled down the steps, and hundreds still gathered with radiant smiles, a war began. Not a physically based snowball war, but a psychological battle of perseverance. Apparently, one of Krish's head-shots had angered two girls, and they went on the offensive. After several minutes of sniping, the charge of the light brigade began. General Pickett ain't got shit on me. Sadly, we conceded the fight after my manhood had been thoroughly extracted by their witch-like abilities. We introduced ourselves, and met two awesome girls. One in particular was one of the more amazingly sweet human beings I have met. I wonder if there are hundreds more like her that I have never had the pleasure of knowing. Or perhaps she is one-of-a-kind. The only way to find out in the future will be to pelt strangers with balls (and not in the way of the guy in the Subway wearing a trench-coat without buttons).

4. Love------When I arrived at Columbia, I often felt absolutely alone in the sea of humanity. I was an outsider; in many ways I still am an outsider. I was never so alone. But the loneliness changed me in a way that will forever leave its indentation on my character. The person I am at 21 is different than the person that left the farm at 18. But the change is positive. I am an individual now. At first, I thought that meant a disconnect from the community. Now, as finals come to a close and a snowball fight united the campus, I realize that a love for people and a love for New York City are not mutually exclusive. I love Columbia. All it took was a 2-hour snowball fight to figure it out.

Liberal Conspiracies and Snowy NYC

Snow is pretty much to most delightful thing on Earth, other than all-you-can-eat Chinese buffets (I prefer the shock-and-awe approach to salmonella). Today in New York City, we have a light dusting with much more to come. In this winter wonderland, I warmed up for an hour with some TT work on the trainer, and followed it up with an 8 mile jaunt through Riverside Park. There is nothing like the delicate sound of the first snow in New York City......just kidding, of course. All you can hear in NYC are honking horns and the occasional kind word from a stranger imploring you of the necessity to stick your spandex in a very sensitive place. Look stranger, these tights are so snug that I am clearly attempting that feat currently.

Sadly, all of my friends are currently so stressed over finals that typical snow activities are out of the question, unless I do them alone. And seriously, going sledding alone is akin to going to a strip club/movie theater sans guest----people will give you funny looks and assume that you are most likely a serial killer attempting to identify your next victim. Thus, I am alone to gaze with wonder out the window, with no company but my bike to keep me warm. Luckily, my bike is a gentle and caring lover.

For those of you not looking for bicycle erotica, it is time to talk about the best part of Christmas: It's a Wonderful Life. I had a friend that had not seen the movie for the first 20 years of her life, so we watched it last night as a study break before next week's exams. That movie has the most profound message of life. Everything will work out if you are a good person. Although very clearly, the movie is liberal conspiracy and a whole-hearted endorsement of socialism and bank bailouts. Mr.Potter is clearly an analogue for Rush Limbaugh. "Every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings?!?!" Mr. Limbaugh would say, "Sounds like a fucking hand-out!"

Anyway, it's an awesome time of year. My dad has called 3 times from Maryland today to give me snow updates.....I wonder where my love of snow came from? Though at times like this, I wish I could pull off a neck beard. The neard is nature's scarf. Drive safe if you're on the East Coast today, and have an amazing weekend!

My Two True Loves (with added happiness)

(If you don't have much time, at least watch the first video...it will make everything in your life brighter)

I identify with Stephen Colbert on so many levels. For one, he understands the main threats to America: bears, and Canadians. Along with Jon Stewart, exposing the radical conservative movement for the farce of dunces it is allowed a political climate where a black man with a Muslim name could be elected president. Satire exposes reality more readily than any speech. And as we all know, reality has a well-known liberal bias.

For your viewing pleasure, the amazing Alicia Keys performing (with very special guest) on the Colbert Report. For those that have been under a rock/are not from New York, "Empire State of Mind" is also a collaboration with Jay-Z, and the special guest takes HOV's spot during the performance. God I love Alicia Keys. Though I am not sure which of the performers in the video I am more in love with.....

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Alicia Keys - Empire State of Mind (Part II) Broken Down
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor U.S. Speedskating

That video makes me so happy. In other happy news, yesterday a friend performed the most miraculous pick-up scenario I have ever seen (he was broken up with on Saturday after 2 years). In tribute to his epic achievement, here is a clip from 500 Days of Summer. Try not to smile, I dare you....


Yesterday was a great training day, with 90 minutes on the trainer and a 5 mile run in the morning followed by an evening 8 miles with aforementioned friend. Life is pretty awesome.

"Reading" Week and Deep Questions

So yesterday was the last day of classes, and Columbia University is kind enough to give its students 2 full days of studying before finals begin. The Columbia administration is always willing to help as long as you are NOT:

1. Sick with the flu (they have students submit an online form for self-quarantine where they bring the afflicted ham sandwiches....really)

2. Poor (one friend had aid go from 40,000 to 0 because a form was omitted. When asking administration to reconsider, she received an email that basically said she was the weakest link, goodbye)

3. From Harlem (though they think your house looks nice, and would like to turn it into a state-of-the-art Center for Race Equality......as soon as you move your black ass out)

But with the free time comes great responsibility: what will I do during my time off? I mean, I could "study", but at this point that seems like a terrible idea for conformers, similar to "using soap" or "wiping". Though it is a time to ponder deep questions. For example, speaking of wiping, how does AC Slater sit when he is taking a poop? That could totally be a question on the Philosophy final.

Now that your minds have official been blown by a Saved by the Bell poop reference, we can talk about the real stuff: Poundtown. The most important bike workout of the week, Poundtown consist of high resistance repetitions at a low cadence on the trainer. Today was a typical structure to the key weekly workout:

1. 15 minute warm up
2. 4 sets of 10 minutes in the biggest gear-54x11 (8 in saddle, 2 out)
3. recovery periods of 2.5 minutes in small gear at 95 rpm's
4. 5 minutes easy
5. 10 sets of 30 seconds on in smaller gear (110 rpm's)/30 seconds easy in same gear
6. sprint sets and cool down

I then follow that up with a tempo 5k, and an easy evening run with a friend. This has been the keystone of bike training for me, and it is super fun because you can watch videos on the computer rather than being outside (avoiding cabs that seem to think my femur would make an outstanding decoration for their windshield).

--------------------

All in all, things are amazing here, and I cannot believe that I am almost a second semester senior. Christmas lights are up, and life is as beautiful as ever. As always, it is amazing to be alive.

But seriously, how does AC Slater take a poop?

The Ballad of Epic Fail

So my pre-race excuses post from yesterday was strangely prophetic (and no, I did not get raped by Tiger Woods......yet). DNF'd the 15k, primarily due to two things:

1. Lack of motivation.
2. Sickness.
3. Bad Math Skills.
4. Nearly Getting Skunked.

We'll start with the last, and work to the beginning. On the first loop, while minding my own business with the leaders, a cute, fuzzy little creature appeared on the course. "Awwwwww," I thought, "I'm hallucinating Disney characters." Luckily, Simba was not manifesting himself on the trail, because that would be a case for Doctor House. No, a fellow competitor screamed, "Skunk!" And we began a 50 meter sprint away from the devil-creature whose butt we did not have a distinct interest in exploring. So that was cool.

On to number 3....my math skills. The course was 3 laps of the Van Cortlandt 5k course, and I stopped after one and a half. By my calculations, that means I only completed 25% of the total distance. From the first few steps, my legs severely lacked punch, and the course was unforgiving enough to expose my mental/physical weakness rapidly. Although I was with the leaders when I dropped out, I had no desire to keep running. Or maybe my lack of math skills led me to think the race was over.....only the failings of my sixth-grade algebra teacher can know for sure (yes, the failings were so great that I treat them as sentient beings).

With number two, I entered the race with a chest cold. Starting with chest congestion goes against a basic tenet of my racing philosophy; that every race should be a celebration rather than a responsibility. Every 30 seconds, I was coughing or sneezing up a green liquid that resembled the slime at a Nickelodeon awards ceremony (my running partners GOT SLIMED!), or possibly water from the Hudson River. Perhaps when the congealed pools of mucus on the ground beside my warm-up location are being used by the mafia to dump bodies, not starting would be prudent.

Finally, the lack of motivation. This is most troubling when analyzing my athletic history. I have won 12 of 23 races this year, but DNF'd 4 as well. All of the DNF's were over before they started, usually without a list of pre-race excuses. When I do not have it, I REALLY go all out in not having it. Sarah Palin thinks I am a quitter. Who knows though? Maybe an off-season of shooting meese out of helicopters, and publishing books about detailing my batshit crazy "Rogue" ideas will lead to a brighter future. Granted, the equivalent of Sarah Palin winning the presidency would be me winning the luge at the winter Olympics.

Pre-Race Excuses (Pete McArdle 15km XC Classic)

So today's race is not until 11:30 (the race time for people who aren't football fans, or as I like to call them, COMMUNISTS). That has given me time to think up a list of excuses for my mediocore finishing place today. Those that read the blog regularly (law schools? Canadians? mom?) know that I don't make excuses very often. But you better move, cause the WHAAAAAAAmbulance is flashing its lights, going 60 down Broadway, and hitting every lazy pedestrian in its path:

1. I'm sick. What the fuck is up with this shit? (I deal with my insecurities my trying to sound like I can pull off cuss words) I have been sick more times this year than in my entire life combined. Somehow, this is Glenn Beck's fault.

2. I drank last night. My close friend is going through rough times, so I went to the bar as accompaniment. Granted, that doesn't really matter to performance (3 glasses of wine is nature's Ibuprofen). But I will still bitch about it. WHY DID YOU MAKE ME DRINK, YOU ASSHOLE (addressed to hand, mouth, throat, and brain for making a concerted, coordinated attack on my liver/legs).

3. These tights make me look fat. How am I supposed to run in first when second will just think I have junk in da trunk? He will think I am doing the Beyonce booty dance, or possibly auditioning for the Jonas Brothers remake of "Baby got back."

4. My dog ate my homework. That bitch (literally) also chewed on my lunaracers, drank my pre-race coffee, and roots for the Yankees.

5. The whole Tiger Woods thing has me really broken up. He is on the prowl, and no one is safe. How am I supposed to run fast when Tiger could have sex with me at any moment?

Just kidding, hopefully things go great today. I will post an update later. Love you guys!

p.s. Tiger, call me. /wink, wink

War and (Nobel) Peace

Just finished watching Barack Obama's Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech on Youtube (which can apparently be used for other things other than spreading the gospel of LEAVING BRITNEY ALONE), and came away more disillusioned with the President than I ever thought I could be. The most striking feature of the speech was the mention of the word "war" 44 times. Forty-four repetitions of the ugliest concept birthed out of mankind's development, at a conference explicitly designed to reward its opposite....this was not a coincidence. He wants the world to know that he is not a pacifist; he is a reluctant warrior fighting for the undying principles of our country. The President recounted a brief history of war, mentioned the struggles against Hitler, and constantly invoked the authority given by external threats to life, liberty, and that ever-elusive pursuit of happiness.

Mr. President, the principles of "Gandhi and Mr. King" cannot be compromised by the looming scepter of an abstract threat. Abstractions of evil and the 'axis of evil' are one and the same when contemplating the entrance to war. Killing is killing, however justified. If the justification need not be direct, if the justification does not need to be Hitler, then the call for war will be endlessly unceasing. Just as the well-tuned metronome will maintain perfect beat regardless of surroundings, the call for war will be constant when initiated by terrorist threats. The root of 'terrorist' is key. By inciting terror, for at least one speech, you were no better than George W. Bush. Fear is ever-present. Threats are ever-present. Thus, our dedication to a world without institutionalized murder must never wane. For if the principles of non-violence flicker, even for a second, war will be the ever-present complement to fear.

The worst part was my initial reaction to the speech. His rhetoric is so intoxicating that in my drunken stupor I missed the message. I simply hope that my perception has not been clouded by eloquence for longer than this one speech.

---------

Awwwww, who am I kidding? I will always love you BO. xoxoxoxox

Anyway, planning on a 15km cross-country race tomorrow in the city. The goal is to feel strong (I have been sick), and finish feeling good.

Awwwww, who am I kidding? I will always have the goal of kicking the asses of all my adversaries. I am totally in favor of war/murder/violence when it involves skinny runners in short shorts.

Law School News and Thanks

I was tired today, when a quick walk to the student center with an awesome friend revived my energy (great people have a way of doing that). At the mail room, I received two packages. One, I knew in advance. 4 boxes of Organic Food Bars. I am glad that NY voted against gay marriage, because it is a slippery slope and next thing you know they would let us marry inanimate objects. And it would be hard to justify the amount I love Organic Food Bars without wedding vows.

The next package I was unsure of. Ooooooohhhh, the mystery. The envelope was nowhere near big enough to fit my anatomically correct Barack Obama blow-up doll (Made in China). What could it be? After ripping the paper open with my brute strength (after a mere three tries!), I saw the news. "New York University Law welcomes you as an admitted student in the Class of 2013." NYU! REALLY!?!?! They are a top-5 school with a median starting salary of $160,000 out of school (Side note: wow....seriously, wow). Think of all the Organic Food Bars I could buy with that! (though our love is, of course, priceless) To be serious for the remainder of the post, I am immensely flattered and thankful--to NYU, family, friends, and everyone else for making life so amazing. And that has nothing to do with law school, I am thankful for the daily miracles that make every day so special.

So thank you to everyone. I have the best friends in the world who support me in everything I do. And not just the best friends; thanks to the people that give me a smile and say hi when we pass on campus, or the girl who offered her entire dataset (which took 12 hours to produce) when I was having difficulty processing a model in Climate Change. People sometimes tell me that I'm optimistic, but the only reason I have a positive outlook is that I'm lucky enough to be surrounded by a bunch of outstanding human beings. Running buddies, classmates, fraternity brothers, and just the random people I have met along the way: thanks to you guys-I would not have survived 4 years in NYC without you. I just hope I have somehow returned the favor.

More Awesome News

But it will be posted tonight. Needless to say, I believe I must have some naked pictures that powerful people want to keep under wraps.

Procrastination Videos

Hi from the library! Haha, just kidding. The library is where college students go to become zombies that sustain themselves with Red Bull. And brains. You can't forget about the brains.

Speaking of brains, VIDEO 1:



So now that we are chill with some zombie pop-rock, it's time for Reba. She is a country music princess, which in my book means she's evil. I don't care how sweet you are, if you sing country music you are probably from a red state. And as we know, Republicans like to subjugate the innocent, roundhouse kick the poor, and curb-stomp the orphans. And country music. We can't forget that they like country music:



The hangin' like my nuts dance will be broken out this weekend. Ladies of NYC, beware. Though Reba is pretty sexy....

Last video has gotten around more than Tiger Woods, but it's still worth a mention. Performance. This video is actually what I want as my epitaph. Tombstones will have youtube videos in the future. The words on my grave: I M OUT. KTHXBAI:



I use chain lube in romantic encounters. Granted, most involve my bike anyway. Hey, it's a Mercury, and they are incredibly sexy.

Training:
Sunday: 16 miles moderate
Monday: PM-6 miles
Tuesday: AM-1.5 hours trainer (Poundtown) with transition 5k
PM-8 miles moderate/hard
Wedenesday: PM-6 miles

Gluten-Free Eating in NYC

A kind email I received yesterday addressed a subject I need to talk about, life as a gluten-free athlete at school in New York City. The email was as unique as each of today's snowflakes, in that unlike other emails it did not contain praise/outrage at elaborate jokes discussing the strength of mentally-challenged gorillas, nor did it contain information on a shipment of Barack Obama blow-up dolls that I in no way ordered for company on lonely nights. No, this email was from an incredibly nice woman named Heidi, asking about life as a celiac. I do not have a meal plan, and NYC life is very similar to many larger cities with an abundance of food options--many of which do not have an explicitly-stated gluten-free menu. So, in order of importance for a college student:

Alcohol:
You have seen this movie; if you are anything like me it was probably an American Pie sequel that you watched because there might be boobs in the unrated version. College life, for better or worse, is dominated by games of beer pong and keg stands. Now that has never been my style, but at the same time, not participating in pong and not drinking beer can be a huge social detriment. Two solutions have been great for an athlete who enjoys a small amount of social drinking:

1. Always have red wine in the room, and do not be afraid to bring it in a water bottle to bars/parties. I know that seems like a social faux paus, but not drinking anything (or paying $7 for a glass of wine) makes having fun much more difficult, and your fellow students much less pretty. On top of that, a couple glasses of red wine is enough to get me somewhat smashed, and it isn't particularly unhealthy.
2. Order Red Bridge gluten-free beer from an online retailer. At $8.50 per 6-pack, the price is reasonable for special occasions when not having a beer is not an option. Because saying you are allergic to wheat only goes so far. It's like telling a girl you have an addiction to internet pornography, it might be true but is not the best ice-breaker.

Dinner:
Whether it is a date (haha, you almost believed I go on dates) or meeting (with my dating advisor), the social dinner is a huge part of life at college. At numerous restaurants, I have seen signs advertising new gluten-free pizza, which is an awesome step. But that is not always an option. In general, if you know the location, you can ask about allergens within the menu. If not, nearly every restaurant has a salmon/rice/vegetable dish----just ask for the salmon to be cooked without sauce (which often has soy sauce/teryaki). That being said, DON'T BE AFRAID TO ASK! Most chefs and waiters are well-acquainted with the concept of celiacs, and are asked all the time. Us gluten-free people are like zombies, we are slowly taking over. Luckily brains are celiac-approved.

Snacks:
Cereal, fruit, energy bars, and nuts. All healthy, all delicious and readily available. The biggest advice I have is online ordering. Nature's Path offers a huge selection of GF cereals in 25-ounce boxes, all of which have free shipping on Amazon. Fruit is available everywhere, as are nuts. And for energy bars, I have fallen in love with Organic Food Bars. They are delicious, relatively inexpensive, and incredibly healthy. Also, they have an awesome name. If that company named Twinkies, they would be called Indestructible Synthetic Cylinders.

Feel free to ask any questions, and I would be glad to answer. I will archive this and the other celiac/gluten free posts on the sidebar to the right. Have an amazing day!

Homeless Fight Club

"I am so busy!" At Columbia, people say that all the time, without a single hint of irony (which is defined as something consisting primarily of element Fe, but you are probably too stupid to know this real definition of irony because you don't go to Columbia).

Really? Busy? There are 24 hours in a day, you go to class for (at most) 6 hours (where we learn that Kant is more than just a name that sounds dirty), eat for 2 (I am counting the requisite bathroom trips after going to the dining hall), and sleep for 8 (we are so sophisticated that we count sheep using Roman numerals). Utilizing my superior (also a Great Lake, but you peasants would have no idea about that) Columbia education, let's see what that leaves:
24 hours in a day
MINUS 6 class hours (Monday-Thursday only)
MINUS 8 sleep hours
MINUS 2 eating hours

EQUALS.....ummmm....I'm not sure exactly what (Columbia is primarily a liberal arts school). But it's something like 8 hours of free time. Seriously, eight fucking hours. That is enough time to do tons of typical Columbia things, like sing some gangsta a capella, go sailing with your prep school friends, or subjugate the innocent by citing eminent domain (Harlem will look beautiful in Columbia blue!). It's similar to the character Dunbar in Catch-22, who believes it is possible to extend your life by enduring boredom. Imagine how long eight hours would be if you just sit in the corner thinking (if about self-loathing, the life of a philosophy grad student), or writing (if bullshit, the life of a history grad student).

The slightly serious point within the jokes is that there is plenty of time in the day. We can really accomplish anything we want within the confines of being a student because there is so much time to do whatever we please.

Anyway, I have been so busy the last week and have not been able to blog :) Yesterday, I had a big presentation on global warming at the New York Public Library. I was like Al Gore, but without the haughty self-obsession. An Inconvenient Truth???? More like AN INCONVENIENT DOUCHE. AMIRITE?

The talk went so well. To be serious for a second, I love interacting with people, and it was pretty cool to see all those fascinating strangers show up to hear what I had to say. Even better, a theoretical physicist turned crazy person was in the audience, and challenged a lot of my ideas. It was actually a blast to go back and forth with him; perhaps all of those fist-fights I start with homeless people have finally paid off in a way other than the respect I receive for wins. In Homeless Fight Club, respect is the gift that keeps on giving. There is actually no rule pertaining to not talking about Homeless Fight Club, because no one will believe those crazy hobos anyway.

Training:
Tues: AM-4x10 min in 54x11 (90 min total) with transition 5k (17:19)
PM-6 miles easy
Wed: 9 miles moderate-hard
Thurs: easy (presentation)
Fri: AM-60 min trainer with moderate 5 mile run
PM-9 miles moderate-hard